


hands red just like he said

by ElasticElla



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, F/M, Fade to Black, Light Dom/sub, Post-Episode: s05e08 Zari Not Zari, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:28:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23903872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: She needs to find a better way to channel her anger.
Relationships: John Constantine/Zari Tomaz | Zari Tarazi
Comments: 4
Kudos: 62





	hands red just like he said

**Author's Note:**

> unsurprise im back at it again with that hellhacker canon divergent juice
> 
> title from valerie broussard's a little wicked

She needs to find a better way to channel her anger. She can picture the air totem with perfect clarity, back in her room on the dresser. Just touching it caused a mini tornado, and she needs to wield it. Needs to hunt that fate down and – 

Right. Healthy coping mechanisms or whatever, it's just for the short term, it doesn't have to be perfect. Just good enough to handle the totem without problems. Behrad would suggest she chill out, wriggling his eyebrows.

As if.

She tells herself she isn't doing it because the last time she got high, B died.

Not because of how hard it would be to tell the other Zari what happened to Behrad. Not because he might be – 

It doesn't matter: they're getting the loom of fate no matter what and fixing it all. They can retell the story so B belonged in this universe, retell it and it'll be like he never died. (She remembers how happy Zari was when she found out their family was alive, won't take that from her with an ill-advised trip. Not when they have a plan to get him back.)

It's easier to be angry. Angry gets shit done, and there is a lot of shit to wade through in trying to defy two goddesses. Without Charlie on their side, there wouldn't be any hope, and she can't think like that.

Anger means productivity and it's great up until it isn't, running into a time stall and a useless totem. Something about having returned from the dead in a certain way means Sara and Nate are in the next mission alone, and Zari sits in the library glaring at Constantine.

“There's nothing else?” she asks, doesn't want to stop. Stopping means thinking, means feeling. And there's always anger when she looks at him now, the man that made her brother’s death possible. (He didn't cut the string, but raging against a goddess lost in the time stream isn't nearly as fulfilling.)

“One thing love,” he says, walking out.

Zari follows with a huff, annoyance nearly overriding curiosity. John brings them to her room, and she slides the door shut before turning on him.

“Do you seriously think now is the time for your stupid games?” Zari asks, voice rising with every word. “If it wasn't for you-”

The words falter on her lips, and Constantine approaches, eyes glittering.

“Keep goin’ love.”

Her anger crests with the endearment, wants him to choke on it. 

“Behrad would be alive!” Zari shouts in his face, trembles with it.

“Aye,” he agrees. “You can do it.” 

“What?” 

“You can hit me.”

The words feel like a spell, propping up a mirage. Of her backhanding him swiftly, blood beading down his lip. He wouldn’t call out, but he might gasp, air slapped from his mouth. His face would redden, maybe a bit of surprise that she took him up on it-. Zari shivers, isn’t a violent person. 

“No,” she says, can’t imagine stopping if she starts. 

“Okay,” he says, eyes so soft she nearly reconsiders. “We’ll expel the anger another way.”

“What, you have an ancient chant for that?”

“Something like that,” he says, kneeling before her.

He waits. 

“If ya don't-” 

“Shut up,” she snaps. The urge to smack him returns, and she sinks her fingers into his hair, pulling him forwards as she walks back to her bed, sitting on the edge. 

Constantine shuffles awkwardly forward, stays on his knees. He’s definitely done this before, and the idea of him being practiced, getting off on this – she yanks his head back, soothing something primal as he bares his throat. 

Her nails are painted pale pink, not nearly dramatic enough as her other hand scratches down his neck. Her manicure is too perfect to break skin, simply leaving a few white lines that dissipate. Wraps her fingers around his neck instead, squeezing until she feels him gulp. Holds until his face begins to darken – it feels so very long ago when she turned down hitting him – letting go, and relishing in the harsh breaths he takes. 

Constantine’s like a statue kneeling before her, not another movement, not a word. His eyes stare up at the ceiling, head still twisted back. There’s a wet sheen, and Zari doesn’t know which idea upsets her more: that he’s getting some form of catharsis before they’ve really started or that he dares reflect upon what he did. 

Her body aches with arousal; she blames the publicity stunt with S’More, can’t remember the last time she had sex. Longer if she’s only counting the good times. (Two years ago, with that reporter who was bad for her image. Z Nation was divided on Linda, and Zari, well, she was a business.) 

She’s never seen Constantine still like this, not without a drink in hand. She’s never – 

She doesn’t want to think anymore, dropping his neck and shoving her skirt up. The panties come off next, she isn’t losing her favorite seamless pair for this. 

His eyes flick down, widen. Her ego appreciates it, it isn’t easy keeping her vulva groomed nicely in the tiny space they claim is a bathroom. 

Zari tugs on his hair, gentler. 

“Before I change my mind.” 

Constantine leans in quickly, going to work immediately with his tongue. 

“If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you up on the bed.” 

There’s a moan against her labia, and yeah, totally the right call.


End file.
